


i just want to feel some sunshine

by honey_wheeler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do I have to show you how to do <i>everything</i>?” she said with some asperity, but before he could ask what she was on about, she gave a little tug and he just about fell onto her face. Her lips, to be precise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i just want to feel some sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Dumbledore’s funeral in _Half-Blood Prince_ , while Harry is talking to Scrimgeour.

“Seems like we’re starting a new tradition.”

Hermione’s voice might have been bitter if she didn’t still sound snuffly from crying. Ron’s shoulder still tingled where she’d rested her forehead as she cried. He mentally chastised himself; Dumbledore’s funeral was the last place he should be thinking about touching Hermione. Or Hermione touching him. Or…he shook his head and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Better to focus on the situation at hand. They were waiting for Harry, who had just been approached by Scrimgeour for what looked to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“Er, tradition?” he asked.

“A nice tragedy to start off the summer holidays,” she clarified. “Remember when we used to be happy at the start of summer?”

“Barely,” he said, smiling when it prompted a tiny exhalation from her, one that in better times would have been a laugh.

“It seems like forever ago that we ended the year happy. That good things sent us off instead of bad.” She sounded tired, resigned.

“This one certainly didn’t buck the trend,” he said grimly. Her answering laugh was rueful.

“But then…” she started hesitantly. “Well, a lot of things happened this year. Things changed, didn't they?” She looked at him speculatively, stepped a bit closer.

“Sure,” he nodded.

“And there’s got to be something that would be a better end to the year than…well, this,” she said, her voice becoming choked as she gestured at the empty chairs and thinning crowd of people around them. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you think?” she persisted, looking at him in an almost pleading way.

“I don’t know what could,” he shrugged. “Tall order, really.” He looked off to where Harry stood, speaking to Scrimgeour. It didn’t look like a pleasant chat, judging by Harry’s defiant expression.

“You can’t think of _anything_ that would be a better start to the summer?” she huffed impatiently, moving slightly in front of him to bring his attention back to her face. His hand dropped away from her shoulder with the motion.

“Like what?” he asked, confused. She looked about three seconds away from tapping her foot impatiently.

“There’s _nothing_ you can think of?” she said, her voice growing ever more shrill.

“Hermione…” he said, unsure of what she was getting at. It was a feeling that had become very familiar over the years.

“Oh, honestly, you can be so dense,” she snapped. Then, without any warning, she grabbed the lapels of his robes and yanked him towards her, his head down level with hers. “Do I have to show you how to do _everything_?” she said with some asperity, but before he could ask what she was on about, she gave a little tug and he just about fell onto her face. Her lips, to be precise. _Oh_ , he thought.

“Like that,” she barked, as she pulled away abruptly, just as he was getting used to the feel of her lips on his. Just as he was about to kiss her back. Her hands stayed fisted in his robes for an extra moment, until she remembered them and let go, rubbing them on her own robes and scowling. His own hands felt overly large and clumsy at his sides. He raised one as if to reach towards her, then thought better of it at her continued scowling and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Oh,” Ron said. “Oh, like that. I thought- I mean, I wasn’t…you-”

“Yes, well,” she interrupted, steadily looking anywhere but at him, her cheeks scarlet. “Obviously it was a poor sort of idea, so-”

“Since when do you have anything but brilliant ideas?” he asked, losing a little patience himself. How was he supposed to keep up with her when she got like this? She slanted him an annoyed look, crossing her arms over her chest. They were still standing close enough that her elbow jabbed him in the stomach, possibly on purpose.

“Okay, maybe the execution could have been a bit better,” he allowed. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a mistake. Her nostrils flared dangerously and he felt his stomach sink.

“The execution?” she said incredulously. “Are you saying I’m a bad ki-”

“I’m saying it wasn’t how I usually imagine kissing you for the first time, all right?” he almost bellowed. The people around them took notice at that, looking either curious or mildly disapproving. One witch sniffed and commented to her companion that in her day children had respect for the deceased. Ron swore under his breath and caught Hermione’s elbow to steer her away from the crowd. Luckily she seemed so stunned by his words that she didn’t object; she merely gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth silently like a fish.

“You surprised me, that’s all,” he said quietly, once they were in relative privacy.

Now it was her turn to say, “Oh.” They stood in silence under the trees, each looking at some vague spot.

“How _do_ you imagine it, then?” she asked, finally. He could tell she was trying to sound casual, but she was clutching her hands together so tightly her knuckles were white.

“I dunno,” he shrugged. He looked down, kicked at the grass with his shoes. “Different ways, really. Just…not like that.”

“Well,” she said, “at least one thing hasn’t changed. You’re still terrible at taking hints.” She sounded amused, almost, and he chanced a look up at her. Her mouth was pursed, but not in that I’m-never-speaking-to-you-again-Ron-Weasley way. She tilted her face up to his, stepped just a tiny bit closer.

“It’s your turn,” she said firmly and his heart climbed up into his throat. He felt kind of ill, actually.

“Oh,” he said, his voice weak. “Right, then.” She felt blindly for his right hand with both of hers. Her fingers felt small wrapped around his larger ones. He worried for a moment that his palm was sweaty and he wondered if she’d notice if he pulled his hand free to wipe it on his robes. She looked at him expectantly, nibbling her lip.

“Right, then,” he repeated and took a deep breath.

It was surprisingly easy, really, when you got down to it. He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers, just barely. He felt almost like he was asking permission, which was silly, seeing as how she was the one who kissed him first and _she_ certainly didn’t ask permission or even provide any warning. But she made this funny little sighing sound that made his stomach twist, and he tilted his head and pressed his lips more firmly to hers. He raised his free hand and tested her hair between his fingertips, feeling the springy mass coil around his fingers like a living thing.

She blushed and looked down when they pulled apart, her hands still clutching at his. Impulsively, he placed his other hand behind her head, pulled her towards him and pressed his lips to her temple.

“Think that qualifies as a better start to the summer?” he asked the top of her head before drawing away.

“Yes, that should do the trick,” she muttered, her cheeks pink. Then she raised her head and smiled, her eyes sparkling like he hadn’t seen them do in ages. “Right, then,” she said, settling one hand more firmly in his. “Let’s go find Harry.”


End file.
